Wilted Flower
by MyKullem3
Summary: A girl who has lost all hope to live has one hope; Gaara. Will Gaara be able to change her state of mind or will she forever fall into the world of darkness? One shot. Gaara X OC


Tormented, that's all I'll ever be. Lost in the world of darkness and despair. No one cares, no one ever has, so what the big deal? All the yelling, I can get away from it all, I can get away from all of the yelling. Constantly being judged and ridiculed by peers. Why, why do people have to be so cruel?

Life? What's the big deal? Everyone dies sooner or later, no one would notice, no one would care. Being told nothing else then 'you're a piece of shit, garbage in which I walk upon' or 'you have to learn to let things go, no matter, nobody likes you anyway' snickering at their own remark. An outcast; I've always been one. So why should I care so much?

I left that life behind… a long time ago. In the dead of night I packed everything, and just left. Leaving behind painful memories, for what? To come to a new village, with new hope, but memories, they taint the mind, they corrupted the mind. Grabbing the piece of paper that is situation next to me, I scribble down a poem, a poem that has manifested in my petty brain.

_As you sit on a wilted flower you too become wilted._

_For you're very thoughts have changed, and your mind is now vital to you're very idea of floating away with the pedals. _

_You've become dead inside, and you wish something could change that, but it can't._

_And deep down inside you, in the root of you're heart and soul, you know this. _

_You know you will never again be the same. _

_You have spilt your own blood and you've let it flow down like a river._

_You try to make the pain leave, you try you're hardest. _

_But fate will have it that you will remain sitting on that wilted flower, and you yourself will become that wilted flower, never again to know the true happiness of being free and alive. _

Blood spilt, flowing down the arm like a river, pain surging through my body; pain I have come accustomed to, I've invited it in, pain; is my only reason for living. Three more cuts, more blood. Using my index and middle finger I trail the blood that flows from my veins, feeling the texture of the thin blood between my fingers. Slowly, the blood drips off of my arm and falls into the sand, quietly and calmly, it is absorbed. One, two, three. Three more droplets of blood consumed by the earth, I feed it my pain and it responds. I wipe the blood off of my kunai. My white scarf smeared with blood. Taking the bandages that lay next to me I slowly wrap them. My thumb holds the first piece, keeping it in place.

A warm hand touched my arm, looking up from the blood covered ground I see a red headed boy with a gourd on his back.

"Why?" he asks

"Why what?" I respond, with no emotion

"Why do you cause so much pain?"

"It's the reason I live. It's the reason I want to die."

"Never utter those words."

"What words?"

"Any word concerning death."

"But death is my friend, death has always welcomed me, it made me feel the warmth under all the ice."

"Why do you speak in such a manner?"

"A complicated past, a complicated present."

"What is your name?"

"The Grim Reapers daughter."

"You're real name."

"That is of no importance."

"It is to me." he said, sitting next to me. Taking my hand, he wraps the bandage around the wounds.

"Why do that? It will only be unravelled and the wounds will be created once more."

"Weren't you trying to do the same things only seconds ago?"

"Yes, but you put cream on my arm, I'm not stupid, its healing cream isn't it?"

"Yes, I can't allow you to get an infection."

"It's just pain."

"No, it's your life. How do you live like this?"

"You lived like I do not too long ago. Your purpose in life was to destroy people, to show them that you belonged and you weren't a freak. I wake up day after day, lying in bed, miserable. The difference between you and I is; you are the Kazekage, well liked, while I am a mere ninja, with no place in society, alone forever."

"True, I did posses thoughts of death, but a certain blonde idiot made me realize just how important life is, and to never give in to fear and pain."

"Lies; all of them. No one is ever free from fear and pain; it follows you like a plague, I was lucky enough to get infected with it."

"Why? Why are you so dark?"

"It's the only way I know how to be, it's the only way I learned to live like."

"Who taught you such a way?"

"Life did, life taught me that life isn't fair, it scraps away at your bones, leaving nothing but a corpse. Lifeless and limbless."

"Don't you want to be free from the pain?"

"The only way for me to be free from the pain is when I die. Now please leave me alone." I say looking him in the eye, expressionless.

"Very well, but don't hurt yourself while I'm not around."

"That's very unlikely."

"Well…just try, for me?"

"I'll consider it."

"I'm serious."

"So am I." The red headed boy walks further into the distance; I place my head on the cool sand, listening to the heartbeat of the village, of the people. I look over at my bandaged arm, carefully I touch the wrappings. Why? Why do something for someone you've never met? Why care? Why try to help the situation? I burry my face in the cool sand. It hugs me and brings me closer to the core.

"Get up." I look up; the red headed boy stands in front of me.

"Why?"

"You have no where to sleep do you?"

"I choose to live with the sand."

"You're killing yourself!"

"Isn't that the purpose?" I ask him, looking up from the ground, I maintain a straight face.

"No! That blonde idiot told me that you were brought into the life for a reason, a reason you may not know. But you can't waste your life thinking about death and killing. Come with me please, I want to help you."

"Help me with what?"

"To get better."

"To get better you say?" an evil, dark smile crosses my face "there is nothing wrong with me to begin with, I live how I like. There is no need for me to get better because I am not sick."

"You have lost your meaning to live; I consider that to be a fault."

"What are you talking about? My meaning for life _is_ death; my meaning for life is to erase myself from it."

"Very well if you feel that way I won't bother you anymore. I hope you can try to consider me as a friend. Just don't kill yourself." He pleas. I had no answer, nor did I feel the need to even reply. The red headed boy turned around and walked away. Leaving me in peace.

The kunai, my friend, it is nice to see you again. You have long waited for the chance to pierce my heart. And today I am giving you the chance. I raise the kunai to my chest; slowly I cut through the skin, blood drips like moonlight on an ocean. Pain rushes through my body as I cut deeper and deeper. Enough, I let go of the kunai and yell in pain, crying at the memories of the past.

"NOO!" the red headed boy yells as he runs to my side. Blood soaks my clothes; gently he picks me up, allowing me to rest in his arms.

"There's no use to try and save me, the wound is too deep and I've lost too much blood."

"Why?" the boy asks, on the verge of tears

"Tormented, tormented by memories, memories, death can't even erase."

"Why take your life?"

"I had no choice, no one wants me."

"I want you!" he yelled.

"Thank you for your kindness." I smile at him and touched his cheek, covering it with blood. He leans down, our foreheads touching; his lips soft and warm against mine, a departing life. Things before my eyes blur, the last face I see is Gaara's and my mother welcoming me to death, I walked over to her. She led me to the land of the dead. And with that, time itself had ended for me.

The last thing in my hand was a poem. A poem I had long knew the outcome of. I had titled it: A wilted flower

_As you sit on a wilted flower you too become wilted._

_For you're very thoughts have changed, and your mind is now vital to you're very idea of floating away with the pedals. _

_You've become dead inside, and you wish something could change that, but it can't._

_And deep down inside you, in the root of you're heart and soul, you know this. _

_You know you will never again be the same. _

_You have spilt your own blood and you've let it flow down like a river._

_You try to make the pain leave, you try you're hardest. _

_But fate will have it that you will remain sitting on that wilted flower, and you yourself will become that wilted flower, never again to know the true happiness of being free and alive. _

Long ago I had become the wilted flower, I remained sitting on that wilted flower and I became one, I never experienced the happiness of being free and alive. The poem lay in my hand at my time of death; my blood had stained it, in a symbol of a wilted flower and a gourd. I had left a boy behind. Many people came to my funeral, they cried. I had left behind people I never knew actually cared for my life. At my funeral the poem that had lain dead in my hands was put on display for all to read. To remind them just how lucky they are to be alive.

* * *

**Authors note **

**I have long battled with depression, I was on the boarder line of it, I had often wished to end my life and cut my wrists. But I didn't, I felt weak and alone, and in cases I still do. However not everyone is as lucky as I am, thousands of teens all around the world take their live because of their sexuality, their personality, their likes are being made fun of, or they are for just being different. People are cruel, something I have realized a long time ago.**

**I am ashamed for what I put my family and friends through; I didn't know how to get away from it. Talking to someone was not a question, when my siblings tried to approach me and see if I was okay I would be rude and hurtful, my siblings told me that was the worst year of their life due to how I treated them. I never realized I had hurt them, I had never intended it. But depression not only affects the person, but the people around them. **

**The poem: A wilted flower was written by me during my time of depression, in fact my best writing came from that point in time, but the emotions behind the writing, they shouldn't be there. I want people to realize that life is important, and if you know anyone who seems different then how you remember them to be, or they look depressed, talk to them, the first step is admitting it. It will be heartbreaking at times, but you have to be persistent. Because if you don't you may just loose a dear friend. **


End file.
